


The Ever Straightening Line

by 4wholecats



Category: Fire Emblem Echoes: Mou Hitori no Eiyuu Ou | Fire Emblem Echoes: Shadows of Valentia, Fire Emblem Series
Genre: F/M, He's not even awake yet, Live To Serve zine, Medical Procedures, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 15:20:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28512564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/4wholecats/pseuds/4wholecats
Summary: It’s hard work. It’s always been hard, bloody work. But never like this. Tatiana remembers when she was just a girl in training, how the practice of divine medicine had filled her with wonder and thankfulness. And it still does. It still does. But sometimes it takes more than just a staff to close a wound, and the memory of blood was imprinted on the palms of her hand, still slippery no matter how hard she scrubbed.
Relationships: Teeta | Tatiana/Zeke
Comments: 6
Kudos: 12
Collections: Live To Serve Zine





	The Ever Straightening Line

**Author's Note:**

> *pushes zeke out of the way so i can kiss his wife right there in front of mila and everyone*

She washes her hands again, and she imagines the sink eroding a little bit every time she turns on the old, rusting tap. Her palms are clammy and raw from the rough and scratchy cloth she dries them with, but she has no softer towel to use as a replacement. She’s exhausted, and in her bleary haze her hands waver. She drops the cloth into the sink, and she watches as the water left behind creeps into the threadbare fabric, staining it a dark and muddy grey. 

It’s hard work. It’s always been hard, bloody work. But never like this. Tatiana remembers when she was just a girl in training, how the practice of divine medicine had filled her with wonder and thankfulness. And it still does. It still does. But sometimes it takes more than just a staff to close a wound, and the memory of blood was imprinted on the palms of her hand, still slippery no matter how hard she scrubbed. 

_ “Father, what do I do next?” she calls out over her shoulder, threaded needle in one dainty hand. The old priest totters over and sits next to her, wrinkled face creased with smile lines as he looks at her.  _

_ “Well, now you must use the thread to mend this hole.” He speaks softly as he deposits a ripped pair of trousers on the table in front of them. The cloth smells like soap, but the memory of a skinned knee lays threadbare before her. Though the wound on her body has closed, her pants did not react nearly as well to the ministrations of the old priest’s healing magic.  _

_ She sticks her tongue out as she pokes a hole in the fabric with her needle. Pausing to glance up towards her mentor for guidance, she continues her shaky work after receiving an encouraging nod. Her stitches are clumsy and the spaces between them large enough to poke a small finger through. _

_ “Ah, a good first try, my child. However, I fear it will be uncomfortable if you wear it as it is now… see how large the stitches are? The cold will get in the holes during the winter, and chill your knees. Here, I’ll take the thread out and you can try again.” _

_ Tatiana does not want to try again. She did it fine the first time. It wasn’t perfect, but the hole was closed, wasn’t it? She does not argue as he pulls out her stitches, however. She makes a grimacing face as he hands back the needle and fabric, and the Father laughs and tousles her hair.  _

_ Her stitches are smaller this time. Crooked, but relatively close together. Suitable for the oncoming winter. She shows her handiwork to the priest, and he beams at her. _

_ “This will do just fine.” _

Tatiana closes the bathroom door slowly, with a low thud. Everyone else in the church would be asleep at this hour, and it would be rude to bother them by making a racket. She mentally curses for dawdling, sneaking lightly down the hall towards the back rooms. The quarters reserved for guests and pilgrims, and on more unfortunate occasions, for patients. 

The man is where she left him; limp on the bed, with red cloth wrapped tightly around his midsection. The sword that his insides were kind enough to let go of had been chucked into the corner, along with most of his clothes. Tatiana’s own apron and shawl were strewn across the ground as well, abandoned in her rush. Her healing staff, as depleted as she was, leans against the wall near the bed, cold and heavy.

_ The girl is crying now, and Tatiana is frantic. The arrow is gone from her shoulder, but the blood, oh, the blood remains. It pours from the wound and color’s the girl’s lovely dress a garish, unnatural red. The child is in no danger, thanks to the cleric’s holy magic, but she is still in pain. Her screaming says it all. _

_ “I need-” Tatiana is cut off by another sob from the child. “I need to finish closing your wound, okay? It will be alright, I promise.” The child does not speak back in words, only more frantic, anguished sounds. _

_ Bandages. Bandages and the needle. Tatiana’s pack is torn open by a slick, distracted hand. Thread. Thread the needle with a shaking hand. The child twists on the ground, attempting to grab or scratch at her wound. Drop the needle. Comfort the girl with whispers and prayers. Everything will be alright if we stay calm. _

_ Pick the needle back up. Pull the thread through the hole. Keep it out of the dirt. Tear away the fabric from the wound; don’t waver now or you’ll both regret it. The girl is so skinny; her malnourished body leaves no room for error. _

_ Tatiana’s hands do not shake, and her voice does not waver. The line of stitches is not perfect, but the bleeding has stopped. It will be a gnarled, scarred thing in due time, but better ugly than infected. She’ll be fine. They’ll both be fine. _

She begins to tidy up. Her work here is done, at least for now. The man is breathing, and that’s good enough for the time being. She bumps an elbow on the nearby desk as she bends down to collect her discarded scarf, hissing under her breath. She cradles the sore spot and sinks into a crouch under the overhang of the wooden furniture, eyes screwed shut. The feeling ebs away soon enough, but she cannot yet bring herself to stand. Her heels protest as she leans back on them, surveying the small room from her small shelter. 

The place smells of blood and alcohol, an empty bottle of the latter lying sadly on its side a mere few feet away. The best disinfectant she could find in these trying times. She moves to sit on her knees now, and her tendons groan in relief. She’s been on her feet for hours, and her muscles burn her from within. She grabs the bottle and fumbles it back onto the desk above.

There is no-one around to reprimand her for crawling around on the floor like a child, so that is exactly what she does. On her hands and knees, she straightens out the room, or at least the parts she can reach in this state. Only when she hears a shifting of fabric from the bed, does she stumble to her aching feet in surprise. 

_ The woman clambers her way into the church, hunched and gasping. Her breath echoes through the hall, over the drone of the rain on the windows, and Tatiana races to catch her as she falls. She drags her to a pew, and by the time they’ve crossed the room, the woman is unconscious. Tatiana lights a meager candle, and then notices the gash on the woman’s arm. _

_ It’s easy this time, for the lady stays asleep throughout the process. She does not even wake as Tatiana pours burning antiseptic over the cut, nor when she threads and binds it. The cleric sits next to her head when she’s finished, one eye on the church door, hoping someone else will come home soon and help her move the poor woman to a bed to recover fully.  _

_ In the silence, she muses to herself about how easy she slipped into her role just then. There was no panicking (oh, perhaps a little. But no one was around to see it, therefore no one had to know), no fumbling with the needle, and no unnecessary pain on the behalf of her patient. The line of stitches, long and winding, was near perfect. Perhaps a little crooked here and there, but with proper care, nobody would ever know there had been an injury there in the first place.  _

_ The sun begins to rise before anyone comes home, and in the dawn light, Tatiana can see bruising across the woman’s skin. Bruising, deep and purple. It isn’t until an hour later, when the woman opens one solitary, glowing eye, that Tatiana realizes she has perhaps made a terrible mistake. She shrieks, and one of the town’s volunteer guardsmen hears her just in time to burst through the doors. _

_ The witch bears her teeth and braces herself against his dull blade, but she is off balance and confused. The man slices through her heavily, and Tatiana watches as her stitches, one by one, come undone. The body slumps to the floor and the man extends a hand to her, asking her if she’s been harmed. _

_ She is fine. Somehow, she is fine. _

He isn’t awake. His hand has simply slid off the mattress, hanging limply at his side. She grabs his heavy wrist and places it firmly atop the bed again, away from the edge. She considers the red fabric across his chest and stomach, reaching out to touch it’s rough edges.

It’s still wet. After all these hours, and after all of her hard work. It’s still wet.

She goes through the motions for the third time that night, unrolling white gauze to replace the ruined red cloth. She balls up the garbage and throws it on top of the pile of clothes in the corner. The walls and floors are stone here. The stains will wash away easily. 

She cleans the leaking blood from the wound again, tracing her fingers along her efforts as she goes. The skin is bruising, but the stitches…

The line is clean. The stitches are small and close together. It will scar, but faintly; an impressive feat for a wound this deep. She watches dots of red well up between the thread, slower now than before. Yes, she thinks. He will be fine.

**Author's Note:**

> If you like this, consider checking out my other works! Also, comments always make my day!!


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